


Normal

by illyriantremors



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Kickboxing, Minor Violence, acomaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 15:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8214533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyriantremors/pseuds/illyriantremors
Summary: Feyre's had a nasty run-in with a stranger that's left her bruised and broken down. So Morrigan insists she come to a new kickboxing class at the gym her cousin runs to get some fire back. Training with Cassian is fun, but when the manager Rhys takes over a session and starts to break down Feyre's barriers, she is forced to confront the issues that have been plaguing her since the incident happened.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was in reply to a fic request and it got angstier than I intended. I'm a little nervous I dealt with the situation poorly, so please feel free to let me know if I've not gotten it right!

I was nervous. Fighting wasn’t really my thing.

“But it’s not fighting!” Mor, my eternally pesky bestie, insisted. “It’s kickboxing and you promised to come!”

When I came home last week late one night, it had been impossible to hide the bruise blooming on my face. It still hadn’t gone completely away.

Mor was adamant I do something, but I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of reporting the a-hole who’d done it. He was just some bloke who’d smacked my face, grabbed my purse, and ran. I didn’t get a good enough look at him to give the police anything to go off of, so short of halting my bank cards and filing for a new driver’s license, I was content to call it with a doctor’s visit.

“At least take this new kickboxing class with me,” Mor had pleaded. “It’ll help you get your mojo back and teach you a few moves to protect yourself should,” she motioned sadly at my face where the bruise covered my cheek, “that happen again. Plus, Cassian’s pretty hot to look at working out, even if he is a total ass.”

I scowled at her. “Don’t tell me that’s why you’ve been going four nights a week since January. Just to sleep with the instructor, really, Mor?”

“Don’t give me that look, Feyre,” she snapped. “I slept with Cassian the first night I met him and that was _ages_ ago.”

“You... what?! What about Az?”

She shrugged. “They’re friends and this was way before Az. I’ve known Cassian for a long time. He’s friends with my cousin who runs the gym we’re going to. And besides, trust me when I say Az has nothing to worry about. Cassian’s ego is a lot bigger than his-”

“Okay, okay,” and I started to laugh, waving my hands around so she’d stop. “I get it. Enjoy from afar, not up close.”

Cassian _was_ pretty easy on the eyes, Mor hadn’t lied. He was all muscle and bulk, making me wonder if Mor had underplayed the size of his _other_ parts just for my sake. But my anxiety over learning to kickbox trumped any hormones I might have felt stepping into that classroom for the first time.

“Wow.” Cassian whistled when Mor dragged me into the class, his eyes going straight to the bruise that hadn’t faded yet. “That’s quite the shiner. You look horrible.”

“Geez, Cassian, you could at least pretend you hadn’t seen it,” Mor said, swatting his shoulder. “It was all I could do to even get her here without your blunt lip.”

“Comes with the territory,” he shrugged, his muscles flexing. But when he stepped up to me, his hand extended, the bravado seemed to go out of him replaced by the seriousness of what my presence at class now suddenly meant. “I’m Cassian,” he said and I shook his hand. “I teach more than just kickboxing. Self defense classes are Wednesday mornings. It’s not exactly a ‘workout’ but Rhys thinks it’s a worthwhile program to have.”

My shoulders tensed up at my neck and I forced a polite smile. “Thanks, but I’d kind of like to just get through today. I promised to give it a try - for Mor.”

His head twitched like he might disagree, but he simply said, “Offer stands anytime.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Class was a bit of a blur. There were a lot of people participating, which made it kind of hard to catch up, but Cassian made sure to give me extra attention so I wouldn’t fall too far behind and Mor stayed next to me to help me out in between.

Cassian was certainly attractive, but his brazen cockiness leveled it out and it was obvious he took his job seriously once he started teaching. He was a good instructor and I felt comfortable in the class.

“Enough to come back with me tomorrow?” Mor asked, way too chipper.

“I guess so,” I said, blowing out a tough exhale. Mor squeed and grabbed my hand, yanking me toward the front office desks of the gym where other trainers and workers were.

“Come on, you have to meet my cousin!”

“Not like this! I’m disgusting now!”

“Actually, you’re rather beautiful,” said a smooth male voice. “Incredibly so, if I may say so.” His eyes slid over me quickly, but came to rest on my face. I tensed, waiting for the comment to come, but then... it didn’t. Rhys was staring pleasantly at me, but not at the bruise and for the first time, I didn’t feel like I was being defined by it.

Rhys wasn’t so bad looking himself. He was tall and lean, but not without muscle. I could tell from the way even his more formal manager’s shirt clung to his chest and arms. I supposed it made sense he’d be fit, owning a gym and all, but it was still distracting.

“How come you never tell me _I’m_ beautiful, cousin,” Mor said feigning indignant.

“No need to inflate that ego of yours,” Rhys said, his hands going into his pockets.

“But I’m _gorgeous!”_ Rhys, who hadn’t taken his eyes off me despite his cousin’s jabs, rolled his eyes so only I could see as if to say _case in point_. Mor popped herself up on one of the office desks where I’d signed up an hour ago as a new member and rocked her heels back and forth. “Rhysand, meet Feyre - best friend extraordinaire. Feyre, meet my stupid cousin Rhys.”

“Pleasure,” he said, shaking my hand the way Cassian had, but the grasp was easy and when he leaned toward me, I could make out that his eyes were a deep violet color I hadn’t expected. I stuttered, not sure what to say that wouldn’t sound totally awkward, and settled for a simple nod.

“What do we say tonight? Wings?” Cassian had come up behind me and was now slinging either arm around Rhys and Mor. “Azriel owes me a bucket of parmesan garlic.”

“We just worked out!” Mor protested.

“All the more reason to fuel up!”

Rhysand went to lock up his office and turn things over to his next shift lead who’d just come in while Cassian went to grab his backpack out of his locker. “What do you think?” Mor asked slipping her arm in mine as we headed for the door. “You wanna go?”

She looked so hopeful and it killed me to turn her down. I knew she’d wanted me to go out with her and her friends for forever, but I was still feeling rattled and wanted nothing more than to go home with a glass of wine and a hot shower. “Maybe next time,” I said, biting my lip when Mor’s face fell. “Can your cousin give you a ride home?”

She sighed. “Yeah, no problem. Take care of yourself, okay? It’s okay to have fun now and then.

I assured her I knew that and told her I was just tired. I took off the second I saw Rhysand walking back over. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something about him that I didn’t want to confront. The way he’d looked at me when I’d first stood there, like he saw the bruise, knew what it meant, but looked past it as if I were a person and not a victim - it was too much.

So I went home and enjoyed the way the hissing steam of the shower relaxed my already aching muscles, poured myself that glass of wine, and promptly went to bed.

* * *

 

Mor panicked three weeks later when I told her I wasn’t going to kickboxing anymore, but I just couldn’t stand how crowded the night classes were. I told her maybe the morning classes would be better, which made her relax. Waking up early to make a 6am session before work was a pain and I’d have to shower at the gym to make it to the studio on time, but it was worth it. Only ten of us showed up.

Cassian, however, did not.

“Feyre, hey!” Rhysand said when I opened the door to the classroom. He looked as sleepy as I did, but his smile was wide when he saw me.

“Oh - Rhys,” I said, halting mid-step. “H-hi.” I took in immediately the fact that he had on gym clothes - a loose tank that and shorts that showed off the generous abs underneath - in place of his usual manager attire and I went a little weak in the knees. Something about him still made me nervous even after weeks of polite small talk coming and going from the gym.

“I didn’t think to see you this morning. You here for class?”

When I didn’t immediately say anything, I realized my mouth was hanging open slightly. “I - uh, yeah. Mornings aren’t my favorite, but the night stuff was too crowded.”

“I hear ya there,” he said, slinging a towel over his shoulder and leaning against the weight rack stashed in the classroom. “I’m more of a night person myself. Not as easy to have fun in the mornings.” His smile faltered a second later as he realized what he said might imply and his eyes scrunched closed. “I didn’t-”

“It’s okay,” I said and managed a faint chuckle. “I know what you meant.” Rhys’s cheeks went red and I’m pretty sure mine did too to match.

Class with Rhys was different from the sessions I’d done with Cassian. He took his job just as seriously, but replaced Cassian’s usual snarky attitude with quiet calm and I found myself relaxing a lot more. That is, until Rhysand had to touch me to adjust my movements and stance. Then my blood felt like it was on fire, every nerve in my body screaming to run further in the touch at the same time my mind was too scared to do it.

 _He’s just being a good teacher_ , I told myself every time Rhysand came near. _He’s just helping you get the right form so you don’t break something like the moron you are._

But I still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something extra behind those touches when Rhysand’s hands were shifting my hips or guiding my arms into the right places. He did it so softly, never with any more pressure than was necessary, and the way he spoke to help me through it sounded like he cared. My expectations that any male attention I might ever receive would be aggressive and demanding - that any touch would be hurtful - were slowly fading away in one hour’s practice with Rhys.

And it scared me to death.

I didn’t know what to do with it. So I kicked harder, punched faster, and moved with more purpose than I ever had. For the first time, I think I had a proper class and I got what Mor had been going on about for months. All kinds of adrenaline and endorphins pumped through me as I honed the movements and actually tried to make an effort.  It was finally worth the pain of going.

But I still didn’t know what to do about Rhys. My stomach went crampy with - ugh, _butterflies_ whenever I saw him and I knew where that led. The second he dismissed the class, I grabbed my bag and bolted, but my body was still high from kickboxing and ready to go, so I grabbed a treadmill and cranked it to 6.0 before I could think.

If I’d thought running was a good idea, I was right for all of about two minutes before I started to crash, exhausted both in body _and_ mind.

He’d hit me. I was walking to my car and there were plenty of people about and it didn’t matter. No one did anything. He’d grabbed my purse and I’d pulled back, but that was the wrong answer because a second later, his fist collided with my cheek and he was off running. The entire thing lasted ten seconds, but I still felt like he’d taken _years,_ not seconds with him.

It was one hit, but it was enough. My life had felt deflated - violated when I felt the blow. If not for Mor telling me it was okay - these things happen and it didn’t make me less of a person because of it - I would have fallen apart completely. Thank heavens for her being home that night.

But I couldn’t get over the fact that one hit had been enough to defeat me. How defenseless I was and even worse, how little I cared to correct it afterward.

So I ran and ran and ran until my vision blurred and I could no longer see the numbers on the treadmill screen telling me how many calories I had burned or how much time was left.

“I think that’s enough,” a kind voice said to my right before Rhys reached over and knocked the speed on the treadmill down to a walkable 3.0. His treadmill was on too. He must have been jogging or whatever too right next to me and I hadn’t realized.

I looked at the treadmill screen willing myself to see the number through the tears - _tears_. Crap. The screen read _15:10_. I’d been running all out for fifteen minutes with Rhys jogging patiently beside me and hadn’t registered any of it. It was suddenly too much and I cracked.

“Come on.” Rhys offered me his hand and I didn’t resist as he led me to his office. He closed the door and gave me his chair - the only one in the room - and knelt in front of me before passing me a box of tissues from his desk. “What happened?”

I told him everything. I told him about breaking up with my last boyfriend and how painful that had been for me. How it had just happened when I left the restaurant because he hadn’t wanted to bother with any of my baggage anymore. How I still felt like it was his fault for not being there when the man assaulted me moments later. How the guy had come out of nowhere. How he’d hit me only once, but it had felt like my life was knocked out of me and stolen away along with the purse he’d taken. How I didn’t think I’d ever be the same again.

“You didn’t want to report it?” Rhys asked when I’d finished. He didn’t touch me, but he hadn’t interrupted me once and for that I was appreciative.

“That’s what Mor said I should do,” I replied trying to dry my sniffles. “But I just don’t think I can. I don’t have anything worth telling them and I hardly remembered anything clearly afterward. And I know it’s awful to think this, but would they even believe me if I went in? Would the police accept my story or just blow it off? I don’t know if the marginal chance at catching him is worth sitting at a cold desk and suffering the torment of questions like _Well, what were you wearing?_ or _How much did you have to drink?”  
_

Rhys paused, grabbed a tissue from the box, and dabbed cautiously at my cheeks taking extra care around the bruise. “To be honest,” he said quietly. “I think that’s more than reasonable. But you’re wrong about something. You’re not worthless and you will be normal again. You already are, you just don’t see it yet.”

My mouth parted slightly and I stared at him. No one I’d told had responded to me that way yet, like I was a perfectly sane person capable of making this choice for myself. Not even Mor.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice horribly raw and choked.

“Don’t mention it.” And then he smiled and it was the first truly beautiful thing I’d had to focus on in weeks. Suddenly, I realized how close we were - close enough that we could kiss - but my mind didn’t go into flight mode automatically at that thought of Rhys’s nearness.

His phone buzzed in his pocket interrupting the fresh silence and he fished it out.

“Mor is insisting on wings tonight,” Rhys said scanning the text. “And she has added a _P.S._ that I try and persuade you to come. She must know you’re here.”

I rolled my eyes wanting to laugh. “She’s too nosy for her own good.”

“That she is,” he replied, still smiling. “You up for it?”

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Will you continue teaching the morning kickboxing class?”

His eyes lit up, but he played it cool as if I hadn’t just out right asked to be around him more. I felt like I’d asked him out. “That can be arranged. The manager sets the schedule and fortunately for you, I happen to be in good with him.”

I laughed and Rhys stood offering me his hand to help me up so I could go get cleaned up. I was way late for my shift at the studio, but when Rhys didn’t let go of my hand as we left his office and he took me to the lockers, I didn’t really mind.

Maybe normal was possible after all.

xx


End file.
